The Lightrunner
by SigmaForceSpeedy
Summary: Samuel Lightrunner, paladin of the Silver Hand, and later one of the key members of the Alliance. This is his story.
1. Inaugurations and First Visions

Summer was in full blaze, and the merciless sun beat down as he rode through the streets of Stormwind. The youth was in full plate armour, a ceremonial helm on his head. It was unbearably hot, but Samuel Lightrunner knew that he would have to endure this heat. He looked around. A small crowd had gathered and lined the streets to see this newest paladin be inaugurated. It was not as large as when his friend Prince Arthas Menethil of Lordaeron had been inaugurated a week ago, but it was still pretty large.

Samuel squared his shoulders, pushed his back in and sat upright in the saddle. He was atop his loyal charger, Sprinter. The Lightfused horse was three years old, and his coat was pure white, golden Light energies burning and emanating in and from his eyes, and at his feet. For this special occasion, his coat had been washed clean and the lightweight armour pieces carefully burnished. The onlookers murmured as the paladin rode by. Soon, they came to Cathedral of Light.

Samuel looked at the familiar flinty cobblestones leading up to the church. Everyday he would run here as part of his dawn exercise, attend the short morning prayer service, then run back home. His family stood near the entrance. Samuel gave them a flicker of a smile as he passed. His father, Caleb Lightrunner of the Silver Hand, his mother High Priestess Sarah Lightbinder, his younger brother Jacob and his twin sister Elisa. The youth felt a sense of peace and serenity as he slowly dismounted, let a groom take his horse and helm, and walked up the carpeted steps. The fragrant incense could be smelled now, and its scent was both calming and pacifying.

There was no giddy throng here, now. Only several rows of emissaries, paladins and clerics all seated in respectful silence. There were the flames of candles wavering in the air. Samuel inclined his head and noticed his two friends Varian Wrynn and Arthas Menethil. Both were tall and strong, promising warriors. They gave him reassuring grins and Samuel continued forward, his armoured boots clinking on the marble floor. Jaina Proudmoore, now not the giggly, cheerful little girl he had once known, but elegant, graceful and calm young sorceress. Genn Greymane, strong and stern, imposing in nature, but a kind smile on his face.

Archbishop Benedictus awaited him at the altar. Samuel approached him and knelt before him respectfully. The archbishop nodded before opening a large book and speaking.

"In the Light, we gather to empower our brother. In its grace, he will be made anew. In its power, he shall educate the masses. In its strength, he shall combat the shadow. And in its wisdom, he shall lead his brethren to the eternal rewards of paradise."

On his left, several men and women, Samuel knew they were clerics, stood still. Some held censors, others held large candles, and one held a large blue talbard. Samuel scanned their faces, recognising a few. They had been his mentors in the wielding of the Light ever since he had been twelve.

Archbishop Benedictus asked the clerics to bestow their blessings upon the youth. They did, the one who bore the blue talbard coming forward to drape it about the prince's neck and anointing his brow with holy oil.

"By the grace of the Light, may your brethren be healed," the cleric said.

Benedictus turned to the men on Samuel's right. "Knights of the Silver Hand, if you deem this man worthy, place your blessings upon him."

In contrast to the ﬁrst group, these men, standing at attention in heavy, gleaming plate armor, were all known to Samuel. They were the original paladins of the Silver Hand, and it was the ﬁrst time they had assembled since their induction many years past. Uther the Lightbringer, naturally stern and upright. Tirion Fordring, Samuel's personal mentor, aged but still powerful and imposing. The old and wise Saidan Dathrohan, his eyes misty and his face proud. The tall Gavinrad, proud and erect, like a great redwood tree. Alexandros Mograine, a stiff upper lip and large blue eyes. Tyrosus Maxwell was there too, a smile curving his lips. The only one missing from their company was Turalyon, lost in the Second War through the Dark Portal when Samuel was eight.

Tirion stepped forward, a hammer in hand. Its silver head was engraved with glowing blue runes, its long haft wrapped in dark blue leather. It looked massive, yet Samuel knew that it was light. Next was Uther himself, one of Caleb Lightrunner's closest friends. In his hands he carried a pair of ceremonial shoulder plates. Uther let a flicker of a smile flash across his lips before he carefully fastened the armoured pieces on Samuel's upper arms and shoulders. The pieces were massive, having a blue trim around gleaming gold armour, harder than tempered steel. Rumor had it that these plates were forged of elementium, the strongest material known to Azeroth. In the center, just on the edge of the shoulder section, was a shallow hollow.

"By the strength of the Light, may your enemies be undone." His hand lingered a moment on Samuel's shoulder, then he, too, retreated.

Archbishop Benedictus smiled at the youth kindly. Samuel met the gaze evenly, no emotion on his face.

"Arise and be recognized," Benedictus bade him. Samuel did so.

"Do you, Samuel Lightrunner, vow to uphold the honor and codes of the Order of the Silver Hand?"

"I do."

"Do you vow to walk in the grace of the Light and spread its wisdom to your fellow man?"

"I do."

"Do you vow to vanquish evil wherever it be found, and protect the innocent with your very life?"

"By my honor, I do."

Benedictus gave him a quick wink of reassurance, then turned to address both the clerics and the paladins. "Brothers and sisters—you who have gathered here to bear witness—raise your hands and let the Light illuminate this man."

The clerics and paladins all lifted right hands, which were now illuminated by a soft, golden glow. They pointed at Samuel, directing the radiance toward him. The youth's eyes were wide with wonder, and he waited for the glorious glow to envelop him.

The sunlight streaming in through windows in the ceiling slowly began to move toward the young man standing alone in shining armor. Now it shone down on him. It warmed at ﬁrst, then seared, and he winced slightly. He felt—scoured. Emptied, scrubbed clean, then ﬁlled again, and he felt the Light swell inside him and then fade away to a tolerable level. He blinked and reached for the hammer, the symbol of the order. As his hand closed about the haft, he looked up at Archbishop Benedictus, whose benign smile widened, both in satisfaction and surprise. Samuel glanced at his shoulder plates and his mouth nearly fell open in surprise. Where the hollows had been, they now burned with an eternal Light flame. It looked as if there were golden fires burning in the hollows. Benedictus blinked. This had not been anticipated as part of the ceremony. "A symbol of greatness and power. Samuel Lightrunner, I have faith that you will go far as a paladin.

Arise, Samuel Lightrunner, paladin defender of Stormwind. Welcome to the Order of the Silver Hand."

Samuel lifted the hammer, and could not resist raising it into the air and giving a great shout of triumph. The audience broke out in applause, and Samuel smiled. He was now a paladin. As he made his way out of the Cathedral, flanked first by Arthas and Varian, and his family close behind, Samuel was greeted by Tirion. "Well done, Samuel. Welcome to the paladin family, brother."

That night, Samuel sat with Elisa in their room. Caleb was out on an errand in Lordaeron, Sarah coaching some priests and priestesses, and Jacob was already asleep. Both siblings knelt and turned to the Light in prayer. "Light, show me a vision of what will happen." Samuel prayed. Suddenly, a voice spoke out through the entirety of Samuel's being. "Samuel Lightrunner, it is I, Xe'ra, an entity of the Light. I will show you what is to come. Open your eyes, child." Samuel did so, and gasped as his mind was suddenly filled with overwhelming images.

First, it was of Arthas. But it was not a good image. It showed Arthas, deep inside an icy cavern, a sinister, ominous runeblade before him. With his friend was a dwarf. Oh, it was the explorer Muradin Bronzebeard! Then, Arthas grasped the sword, and icy shards flew out in every direction as the sword's icy base shattered. Muradin was hit in the stomach with a shard, and he seemed to die as Arthas tried to heal him. Arthas, his face had changed! His face seemed to be taking on a deathly pale pallor. He grimly stepped out of the cavern and the vision ended. Samuel shook his head. What had he just seen? And what had Arthas just done?

Next was Arthas, again! The man that Samuel had once called friend fought in fury against a night elf that looked more like a despicable Dreadlord! Horns, claws, wings and hooves. Two green eyes blazed as the two fought. The elf seemed to be winning as he wreathed Arthas in blazing green fire, then by some damned miracle, Arthas slashed blindly, and abruptly the elf fell as his chest was cut open by the sword. As the elf lay bleeding and helpless, Arthas stood up, and made his way up an icy glacier in the direction of what seemed to be a throne encased in ice.

The vision ended, and another took its place. This time, it seemed to be the same night elf again, fighting against a band of adventurers. He slashed and roared, but at last the adventurers managed to overcome him and wound him. Samuel could not see what happened next as the vision was clouded with mists. The vision ended, and now Samuel could see what he recognised as the high elf Sunwell. What looked to be a high elf leader motioned over it, and a monstrous claw reared up from the well. The elf spoke. "Great Kil'jaeden! Come forth now!" The vision ended.

The next vision was even more strange. A tall imposing figure clad in silver armour inlaid with skulls raised a whispering runeblade. It was Arthas! The monstrous figure slammed the blade into an icy plain, and a bone dragon lurched out of the ice. It was terrifying. Arthas, no, what he had become, stood motionless as the dragon flew across an icy valley, awakening an army of Scourge. Then, the vision switched abruptly and it showed the thing Arthas had become fighting against a large group of adventurers. At their head…it was Tirion! Tirion Fordring, old but still strong, clad in ceremonial armour and wielding a mighty sword with a circular jewel set near its flat tip.

Next, a mighty black dragon armoured in elementium burst out from the mountains and flew across Azeroth, spreading fire and destruction wherever he flew. Then, a huge fire elemental rose from the sea, before him standing a lone orc dressed as a shaman. The fire elemental seemed to trap the orc in a hollow fire pillar, and show to him a vision. Suddenly, Samuel found himself looking out through the orc's eyes. The fire elemental's voice was like thunder. "The end comes, son of Durotan! The final hour of Twilight! And there is nothing you can do…to stop it. Hahaha!" The orc screamed in terror, and so did Samuel, as a huge tidal wave of fire engulfed a mighty Horde fortress and sped towards him.

With a cry, Samuel awoke from his vision and found that he was curled up into a ball on the floor, weeping. What had he just seen? Then, another voice, sweet, familiar and kind. "Samuel, Samuel!" Elisa pulled him off the floor and bundled her twin in her arms, soothing him. Samuel gripped his sister tightly. "I…I saw what would come…it…Elisa…it…it was terrifying!" Elisa looked into his eyes. "What happened, brother dear?" Samuel took a moment to calm down, and related his story to her. Elisa held him through the entire story, and eventually, she managed to tell Samuel that he had remarkable foresight. "It…it was not me…it was the Light! It showed me what would come." Samuel explained, now feeling much better. He carefully wriggled out of his sister's embrace and held her wrists. "Anyway, I'll just keep this in mind, then. It's late, I think I'll go to sleep." Samuel said as he released Elisa's hands and kissed her on the brow. "Sleep well, dear sister." He said as he retired to his bed. Elisa rose from the floor. She looked at her twin, already dozing.

"You too, dear brother."


	2. Victories and Losses

It was a complete slaughter. All around Mount Hyjal the forces of Azeroth reeled from the might of the demons of the Burning Legion. Humans, orcs, night elves, tauren, gnomes, dwarves and trolls alike fought desperately now, every precious second that they could stay alive for was essential to Archdruid Malfurion Stormrage's plan. At the frontline was the Third Paladin Division of the Argent Dawn. The Argent Dawn members were all clad in the black tabard with the six-pointed white star with its golden center. Twenty-five-year-old Samuel Lightrunner, now a lieutenant in the order, rallied his paladins as the snarling demons closed in. "To arms, brethren! To arms! Fight bravely on! Fear no evil! FOR STORMWIND! FOR THE LIGHT! FOR AZEROTH!" Samuel's brother Jacob turned to face him. Not a paladin but a warrior, he let loose a thunderous war cry and brandished his twin swords. The cry went up, spreading throughout the defenders across Mount Hyjal. "FOR AZEROTH!" Jacob cried, hacking and slashing with his blades. Samuel felt himself infused with the Light as he leaped high into the air. Swinging Light's Justice, as he had named his hammer, in a wide arc, the paladin cleaved down three felguards all at once. He sent out a wave of Light that scorched the demons and healed his brethren. He turned, and saw amidst the blood and carnage, Warchief Thrall of the Horde sending bolts of lightning and storms of rock into the demonic ranks. The Doomhammer was crackling with pure energy.

Jaina Proudmoore, now a powerful mage, stood on a high slope, flanked by many water elementals. Purple arcane symbols flaring at her hands, she rained down fireblasts, frostbolts and arcane missiles upon the demon army. However, most impressive of all was the night elf that Samuel had seen in his vision so many years ago. Illidan Stormrage with his twin warglaives was virtually invincible, tearing into the ranks of the slavering demons, their bright green fel blood spilling everywhere. Yet how well the defenders fought, they were slowly but surely losing ground. A tauren brave cleaved down an undead scout and then a felguard, but then was vaporised by a doomguard's shadow bolt. Three orcs were laid low by the stroke of a doomlord's sword. A night elf and a human were impaled upon the claws of a Dreadlord. But the defenders had one hope that still spurred them on: Malfurion had a plan.

From afar, Archimonde watched.

After what seemed like an eternity of killing and suffering, Archimonde's gargantuan form was seen scaling Mount Hyjal. The great World-Tree, Nordrassil, its mighty boughs and trunk pulsating and glowing with energy, stood there like a great guardian atop the mountain. Archimonde scaled, ever growing closer to the great tree, his form emanating terror and fear. The defenders were wounded, exhausted, but knew that Malfurion would do whatever he needed to do. As Archimonde put his hands to Nordrassil, Malfurion raised the Horn of Cenarius. He blew a great blast, and the great call could be heard for miles around. As Archimonde started to absorb the energies of the tree, millions of wisps came flying forward. They absorbed into the tree, and the energies pulsed even brighter. Archimonde's eyes widened at first in delighted surprise, then his face changed to a mask of horror as he started to feel an unbearable heat from the center of the tree.

Samuel stood solitary on a hill, hammer stained with green blood, his armoured form raked by half a dozen small wounds. The fires in his shoulder plates, however, were blazing even brighter than ever before now. There was a thunderous roar, one of terror and despair, as Archimonde threw his head back and screamed in utter terror and pain. Then, Nordrassil exploded dramatically, and everyone turned away as the unbearably blinding blast killed Archimonde instantaneously, and most of the demonic army was vaporized too. When the light faded, Samuel and Jacob opened their eyes. Only Archimonde's bones remained, and most of the surrounding forest was burning.

However, the sky was clearing and as the armies of Azeroth cheered, the first blades of grass were already poking up from the charred earth. They had done it. They had defeated the Burning Legion. They had saved Azeroth. Samuel's subordinate, paladin 2nd Lieutenant Thomas White, drew his sword and raised it. "FOR AZEROTH!" he cried. All around him, and like a wave, the defenders of Mount Hyjal raised their weapons. Orc, human, night elf, troll, tauren, the race did not matter. Axes, swords and spears, among others, were raised to the twilight sky.

"FOR AZEROTH!"

The armies around Mount Hyjal took up the cry, and their thunderous cheering could be heard even from a huge distance away, the echoes coming even to the Scourge-overrun Lordaeron, now called Undercity, and the faintest whispers being heard in Orgrimmar.

 _Antorus the Burning Throne, Seat of the Legion_

In his office, Kil'jaeden sat and fumed. His closest friend Archimonde was dead. The leaders of the Legion, Tichondrius and Mannoroth, were dead. Kazzak and Azgalor were gravely injured. Nearly all of the Legion's full might had been decimated. He stared in utter fury at the assorted demon commanders who stood in front of him.

"Speak."

That one word was said with enough danger and malice to make mortal whelps run away screaming. Yet the commanders stood there, unmoved. The first, an Eredar lord, stepped forward. His skin was a pale purple, in contrast to his burning green eyes. His name was Tanaris. "Lord Kil'jaeden, we lost most of our forces. However, our forces will return in a week, no more." That, of course, did nothing to appease Kil'jaeden. However, he merely waved for Tanaris to leave. Tanaris disappeared in a flash of green light.

"Next."

The next commander stepped forward. He was a Pit Lord named Brutallus. "Lord Kil'jaeden," he growled. "With the death of Lord Mannoroth, I have been the one refilling the fel wells on the conquered planets." Kil'jaeden dismissed him with a grunt.

"Next."

The next one was a Queen of Suffering. Her coiled whip hung from her belt, and her curvaceous body was squeezed into a tight leather bodice, inlaid with metal. Two bat-like wings sprouted from her back. "Sayed. Your report." She bowed low, displaying her ample cleavage. "Master Kil'jaeden, my succubi are hard at work with the warlocks trying to establish some form of order." Kil'jaeden dismissed her. At that moment, another succubus appeared from a portal and embraced Sayed rapturously. The two strolled off hand in hand. Kil'jaeden grimaced in disgust.

"Next."

The final one was a Dreadlord. His muscular form was covered with fel tattoos. "Lord Kil'jaeden, our nathrezim brothers Balnazzar, Varimathras and Dethreroc have established a foothold on Azeroth. We are waiting for the signal for them to rise up." Kil'jaeden pondered this much-appreciated good news. "Thank you for this news, Mephisto. Good. Let them wait a few more years until the Legion has regained its full might." Mephisto bowed and walked off.

 _Two years later…_

The members of the Argent Dawn were milling around Light's Hope Chapel. Samuel Lightrunner was poking in the cellars under the complex in search of extra weapons that could be salvaged to fight off the impending attack. Scouts had already warned the Argent Dawn. He poked around, finding an armful of swords, axes and bows with plenty of arrows. Good! Before he left, however, he heard Xe'ra's voice in his mind again. "Lightrunner! There is a powerful artefact that you can use to slay the undead, and you do not look for it? See now, in the floor there is a trapdoor. You will find it inside. What you decide to do with it will decide what will happen today." Samuel shook his head, and delivered the supplies up to the armoury before calling his friend Angmar Lightreaver, a blood elf paladin, to follow him.

The two paladins made their way to the trapdoor and after prying it up, they ventured down a flight of rough-hewn steps. Samuel and Angmar gasped in wonder. They were standing in a vast great hall, with the souls of a thousand brave warriors contained inside urns. But at the end of the hall, they beheld a sword, wrapped in cloth. This was the artefact? Samuel took the sword and unwrapped it. He gasped in surprise. It was a beautifully crafted twohanded sword, its shimmering silver blade plain with no runes, and one arrow-shaped groove near the golden crossguard, which was not much wider than the blade. A dragon's head had been elaborately carved into either side of the crossguard. Its sturdy handle was, like Light's Justice, wrapped in blue leather. It was a feather's touch too large for him. The two paladins looked at one another. Without speaking, they wrapped the sword back up and closed the trapdoor as they exited the hall.

Tyrosus Maxwell was surprised to see the blade. "By the Light, I have never seen anything like this before…" he said, examining the sword. "Why, it looks a little like Lord Commander Turalyon's Great Royal Sword!" one of the older paladins exclaimed. Tyrosus wrapped it back up. "It is truly a vessel for great power. In the wrong hands, it will become a goblet for evil. In the right hands, it will be a chalice of light. Nevertheless, we shall see who the blade intends to be its master."

"Knights! Soldiers! Templars! Gather around!" Tyrosus called. The Argent Dawn members gathered in a great circle. "Captains Lightrunner and Lightreaver found this great sword. I will place it in the center, and we will find out who it intends to be wielded by. Whoever takes it will likely be what causes our victory or loss today." Tyrosus placed the sword, still wrapped, on the ground. Angmar closed his eyes and prayed. "Light, show this sword who its true master is." Suddenly, the wrappings were burned away in a flash of Light and the sword flew up into the air. A voice seemed to emanate from it. "Servants of the Light and of Azeroth! My name is Calmacil, Vessel of Might! True, I was forged by the great Titans when Azeroth was young and left under this holy chapel for ages, but now, I sense that the time has come for me to tip the scales in favour of good." The Argent Dawn members looked up in awe.

The sword rotated in the air as it scanned through every single one of the people there. Some had evil in their hearts, some too much good for their own sake, some worthy, some not. It rotated to face Angmar. "Angmar Lightreaver, son of the late Celegar Lightreaver! You have a great destiny ahead of you. I, the blade, am therefore not worthy of your grasp." Angmar remained stoic. The blade came to Darion Mograine, who was wielding the now-corrupted Ashbringer. "Darion Mograine, son of the late Alexandros Mograine! I sense…a great evil that will befall you! That blade that you hold…it will be wielded for both good and evil. In time, you will learn that only the greatest act of love can save the soul of that which hold most dear. And you will have no peace, no rest."

Eventually, the sword flew like an arrow towards Samuel. It slowed as it approached the paladin and rotated until its blade was facing upwards. "Samuel Lightrunner, son of Caleb Lightrunner! You have shown the greatest worthiness among all these great warriors. Take me by the handle, and we will become one." Samuel frowned as he took the blade. Instantly, the sword glowed as the Light, pure and clear, seemed to flow from Samuel's arm and into the grooves of the blade. Calmacil had been Lightfused.

Suddenly, there was a horn call and a terrified scout came running over the ridge, followed in the distance by a huge army of undead. "Members of the Argent Dawn! Stand your ground!" Tyrosus roared. The Argent Dawn now drew their weapons and a battle cry was let up. Samuel handed Light's Justice to a trembling fresh recruit called Nathan Wind, who was without weapon. "This hammer served me well at Hyjal, Nathan. Trust that it will serve you well, now." Nathan accepted the hammer, newfound determination burning in his eyes.

Samuel and Angmar now stood at the frontlines. Angmar drew his blade, the Lightreaver. It had been forged together with the blood elf leader Prince Kael'thas' sword Felo'melorn, or Flamestrike. Thus, the Lightreaver and Flamestrike had been sibling blades. Samuel tested Calmacil's weight. It was just right for him. The blade shimmered with Light, as if ready to smite some undead foes. "Bring it on." Angmar murmured as the first waves of slavering undead came rushing in.

"Attack!"

The Argent Dawn surged forwards as one at the sound of Tyrosus' command. Samuel and Angmar were upon the undead in an instant. Samuel couldn't help but laugh as he slew the living corpses. It seemed that Calmacil had been made for him. He sliced the undead cleanly as beside him, Angmar alternated between cleaving down undead and summoning Light missiles to scorch the undead. A roaring abomination lumbered towards the pair, hurling its chained hook. Angmar nimbly sidestepped the blade and hacked it off. Then, he cleaved off the abominations arm and Samuel leaped forwards, slashing it across the chest. As the monstrosity died, Jacob Lightrunner came riding up on horseback. He had been supervising the evacuation of villagers and now, as he drew his swords and cut down three ghouls at once, Darion leaped forward, the ghastly green glow of the corrupted Ashbringer intensifying as he sliced down the undead.

However, they were being pushed back. An Argent Dawn cleric attempted to burn an abomination with Light, but was stabbed through with a vrykul's sword. Four young paladins stood back to back, fighting desperately until they were overwhelmed. Samuel and Angmar leaned on their swords, a brief respite from the battle. A horn call, and a troop of people on horseback came into view. At their head was Tirion Fording! Old but still strong, he swung his hammer and struck down an abomination in one blow. The one behind him was…Samuel frowned, then his eyes widened as he picked up his sword and cleaved down another ghoul. A pretty young woman dressed in the garb of a Stormwind mage dismounted quickly, then she and the others, who were paladins, priests and mages, started to counterattack.

Samuel grinned as he fought his way to the woman. "Elisa!" he called. Elisa Lightrunner, the mage, turned and smiled. "Well, what do you think, brother?" She asked as she summoned a water elemental to attack the undead. "I thought you would become a cleric or a paladin!" Samuel chortled as he extended a hand, letting a tidal wave of Light wash over the undead. When the glow faded, nothing but bone remained.

Suddenly, there was a massive explosion. A skeletal lich stood there. With one wave of his bony clawed hand he sent many Argent Dawn members into an unnatural sleep where they were torn apart. Elisa turned and gasped as she recognised the figure. "Kel'thuzad…" she breathed. The Archlich of Naxxramas Kel'thuzad let out a roar as he unleashed powerful dark magic upon the defenders. Darion saw the figure. "Only an act of true love…can save my father's soul…bound within this blade…" he thought as he hacked his way to the terrifying figure. Kel'thuzad saw him. "So this is Mograine's boy…give up! Your father's soul is gone! There is no saving him."

Darion raised the Ashbringer. "Soul for a soul. I love you, dad." Samuel saw what he was doing and gasped. "Darion! No!" Tirion yelled. But it was too late. Darion stabbed himself through the chest with the Ashbringer. He instantly had a vision. The souls of a thousand brave warriors erupted, consuming all the undead. As the Argent Dawn members desperately hacked an exit out and fled, Kel'thuzad came over to Darion.

"We may have lost our main objective, but it is not over. Rise up, your work is not complete."

Darion, now with pale grey skin and white eyes, rose, the corrupted blade through his chest.

"Whom do you love?"

Darion pulled the Ashbringer from his chest. Unhesitatingly he spoke the words.

"No one."


	3. Attack of Mephisto

Weary and exhausted and wounded from the great battle, the Argent Dawn returned to Light's Hope Chapel to find that the entire undead army had been annihilated. Kel'thuzad and the now-undead Darion had left to return to Naxxramas, probably. The Argent Dawn, demoralised and deflated, sank down upon the grass and stone ruins as the priests and clerics started bustling around attending to the wounded. Tirion had a nasty slash across his leg and was sitting grim-faced as the cleric fussed over him.

Angmar knelt on the blighted grass with the Lightreaver planted in the ground. He looked at Samuel and Jacob, who were reuniting with their sister Elisa joyfully, with a certain degree of sorrow. His entire family, save for his brother Faron and himself, had been killed when that fiend Arthas had stormed Quel'thalas. Angmar sighed and allowed a cleric to tend to his wounded arm. Samuel was sitting on a boulder and listening to Jacob and Elisa excitedly recollect their tales. He knew that when he and Jacob had joined up with the Argent Dawn, Elisa had remained in Dalaran to continue her mage training with Rhonin and Krasus. Jaina, too, had provided a helping hand. Thank the Light that all of them had got out safe when Kel'thuzad had summoned the now-deceased Archimonde to destroy the city!

Tyrosus Maxwell, sporting a bandage around his head, stood up and addressed the troops in a loud, clear voice. "Brothers and sisters! We may have lost many, but we are still in existence! We are still around to quell the undead! We are still here for Azeroth! Rise up!" Everyone got to their feet. "Take this day to refresh yourselves! Tomorrow we resume our fight against the Scourge!" The Argent Dawn drew their weapons and cheered, and everyone went off to do their own business.

"Shh! We're here." The party of six rode stealthily through the forest and stopped at a clearing. Angmar drew his steed to a halt and held up a hand. "If what the scouts say to be true, a Scourge contingent will be passing along this valley soon. Weapons ready, everyone." The other five were Samuel, Jacob, a troll shaman named Crajin, an orcish warrior named Naz'gul, and Angmar's brother Faron, who was a warlock. Soon, the clank of metal armour plates could be heard, along with the heavy trampling of living skeletal beings.

A troop of Scourge warriors came into view below them. At their head was a death knight. His black armour was inlaid with skulls and at his side hung a grey sword. It was emblazoned with runes that glowed blue and had the shrunken skull of a dragon at the crossguard. His helmet covered all of his head except for his eyes, which blazed blue. Wherever the undead stepped, grass and plantlife withered and died. Angmar raised his hand, then pointed it at the Scourge. Yelling war cries, the six Argent Dawn members sprang down from the grassy ridge and attacked the Scourge with burning zeal. The death knight was taken by surprise, but then he composed himself and joined the fray.

Angmar found himself trading sweeps and slashes with the death knight. This death knight had skill, Angmar had to give him that. Angmar shoved the death knight back with three heavy strokes, but then the undead man counterattacked with a flurry of furious two-handed blows. Angmar received a nasty scratch across the temple, and the death knight took a graze across the neck. However, none could stop the Lightreaver. Angmar raised a hand and screamed, "BURN!" The Holy Light, pure and blazing, shot from his outstretched hand and engulfed the death knight. He screamed as the Light seared his flesh. Angmar didn't stop burning the man with Light until nothing remained but ashes and melted armour. He turned to see his comrades making short work of the rest of the Scourge forces.

Now that the enemy had been taken care of, the main thing to do now was to burn the corpses so that necromancers would not find a convenient fresh source of troops. While the others kept watch, Faron cast Hellfire on the bodies, casting it again and again until nothing but ashes remained. "Now we can go." Angmar said, as the party mounted their steeds. As they rode on, they slew any Scourge ghouls that sought to waylay them.

The clanking of horse bridles and armour plating came faintly within earshot. Crajin paused, and knelt, touching the ground. Communing with the Earth, he listened, then rose up. "Da Earth ain't be sensin' any hostility, but a dark malevolent presence is makin' itself known to da Earth, though I not be knowin' where or when! Careful, bruddas!" Crajin clenched his fist, crackling with lightning. Angmar and Samuel drew their swords. Naz'gul hefted his two axes. Faron held his staff two-handed. Jacob drew his blades and spun them in his hands.

A troop of men and women armoured in red and gold rode into view. Their banner displayed the "L" of Lordaeron, painted in scarlet. The Scarlet Crusade! Angmar stepped forwards. "Hail, Scarlet Crusaders! What news from the Plaguelands?" The one at their head, a tall imposing man with a scar across his gaunt face, dismounted and loosened his sword in its sheath. "Hail, sin'dorei! And who might you be?" Angmar made a motion for his friends to sheath their weapons. Sheathing the Lightreaver, he spoke. "I am Angmar Lightreaver, formerly of the Blood Knights, and now a lieutenant of the forces of the Argent Dawn. With me are my friends. Samuel Lightrunner, my second-in-command, Crajin the troll shaman with the elements' blessings, Naz'gul son of Kargarth Ironfist, Jacob brother of Samuel, and my brother Faron. And you are…?"

The leader stepped forwards. "I am Scarlet Crusader Marcus Fledging. These are my forces. We are here to scourge the Scourge from the face of Azeroth! Yes, we will spill their blood and burn their fortresses to the ground! By the Light, they will…" he paused, catching himself. "Sorry, got a little carried away. Anyway, what are you Argent Dawn members doing here?" Angmar shrugged. "Same reason as you, Fledging. It seems that we must cross paths—"

A huge fel explosion knocked everyone to the ground. When they looked up, the shape of an evil nathrezim lord loomed over. His skin was ashen-white, and black eye-tattoos obscured the shape of his blazing green eyes. Two massive wings unfurled from his back. A simple gesture of his clawed hand, and fel portals opened, releasing felguards and imps. For an evil nathrezim, his voice was surprisingly smooth and cultured. "I am General Mephisto, aide to Eredar Lord Tanaris! Tremble before me, champions of Azeroth! For soon, you will be slain and your efforts will be in vain!" Mephisto spoke some words in Eredun, and the demons rushed forwards.

"Just like Mount Hyjal all over again! Lok'tar, brothers! Blood and honour!" Naz'gul charged at a felguard, and dodging its axe blow, cleaved it in three pieces. Wielding his two axes, he chopped up imps and carved up felguards. Faron sprang forward, killing three felguards at once with a single Chaos Bolt. Mephisto turned on him. "Warlock! You were supposed to be serving the Burning Legion!" He fired a massive bolt of fel energy at Faron, who had weaved a fel shield. The bolt struck the shield. Faron grimaced and strove for a moment. Then shouting out loud, he turned the bolt and sent it back at Mephisto. The bolt splashed off harmlessly. Mephisto laughed in turn. Meanwhile, Marcus Fledging and his forces were hacking away at the demons that rushed at them. Angmar found himself fighting back to back with Marcus. "You fight well, Lightreaver! Join our cause!" Marcus panted, carving down an imp. "Sorry, I must decline, Fledging. The Argent Dawn would lose one of its best fighters!" Angmar replied, and crying aloud, hurled himself upon some felguards.

A horde of imps rushed towards Samuel, snarling and firing fireballs. Summoning a divine shield to protect himself, Samuel fired a wave of Light back, burning the imps. As the imps rolled around in agony, Samuel cleaved them up. Naz'gul grasped his two axes and leaped towards another felguard. It speared him in the leg with a well-placed upwards stab, but it got its head cut off. As Naz'gul hit the ground and broke the shaft off, Jacob rushed up, bathing the leg in Light. The axehead melted away and Naz'gul's leg was healed.

"Rocks of da ground, hear my call! Rise up, ya burrowing crags, and spear 'em all!" Crajin summoned rock spikes to impale the felguards. Mephisto's forces were already declining, and he couldn't keep temporary portals open for long. They would need some sort of stone arch to stabilise themselves, but there weren't any around. "FOOLS!" he roared, furious at his minions' incompetence.

Mephisto now raised his claws to the sky and summoned Infernals to rain down. Ten Infernals landed and immediately unfurled from their rock prisons. Leaping high above the battlefield, Angmar raised the Lightreaver and slashed an Infernal across the chest. It howled in agony and Naz'gul followed up with a flurry of slashes across its legs, causing it to stumble. Angmar took off its head with a fast stroke. By now, Mephisto, having seen the folly of his plan to attack and crush these seemingly worthless mortals, had escaped through a portal. As the rest of the Infernals were speedily dispatched, Marcus turned to Angmar. "You and your allies have fought hard and well. Though our factions are hostile towards each other, you have earned my respect. Should you ever need my assistance, you can send a message via this carrier pigeon." Marcus put out his hand, and one of his men put a pale blue pigeon in his hand. Marcus gave it to Angmar, petting the bird tenderly. "Her name is Myera. Keep her safe." Marcus now snapped to attention and gave Angmar a quick salute.

"Farewell, Lightreaver. Until we meet next again."

"Farewell, Fledging. _Al diel shala._ "

The Argent Dawn members made it back to Light's Hope Chapel. Tyrosus quirked an eyebrow when he heard of the friendly Scarlet Crusader. "A Scarlet Crusader who has offered his help? That's interesting." Naz'gul grumbled. "I still don't fully trust Fledging, but I can't refuse help. Therefore, I can trust him a little." As the Argent Dawn members dispersed to their various places, Xe'ra's voice echoed once again in Samuel's mind. Samuel quickly sat down upon a rock and listened.

"Lightrunner! I will now show you more of what is to come! Behold!"

Samuel opened his eyes, and was confronted with a strange vision. Thrall, Warchief of the Horde, dressed in shaman robes and prayer beads around his neck, held a large gold disc. He pointed it at a massive dragon, armoured in elementium, and fire in his veins. A brilliant beam of golden energy shot from the disc and blasted a massive hole in the dragon's body.

The next vision was even stranger. A human sailor, a Theramore sailor, by the looks of him, did battle with an orcish warrior. Then, a shadowy figure separated the two of them with a stab of his staff. It was an anthromorphic bear! The trio did battle, smiting and cleaving with sword, bamboo spear and staff, until the bear leaped high into the air and smote the ground with his staff, breaking the dense mists and heavy fog. As the mists cleared, revealing an Oriental backdrop and village, the bear asked, "Why do we fight? To protect home and family. To preserve balance, and bring harmony. For my kind, the true question is: What is worth fighting for?"

The final vision was of a massive orc, his jaw black and carrying a huge curved axe. He was dragging a massive metal chest behind him. Walking along a wooden walkway above the waters, he approached a beautiful clear vale. He was stopped by another bear, who demanded that he step aside. The orc then proceeded to fight and severely wound the bear, who fell to the wooden planks. As the bear lay bleeding, he gasped out that the champions of Azeroth would bring the orc to justice. "I answer to no one!" roared the orc as he kicked open the chest, revealing a massive purple heart, dripping with purple blood. It emanated pale mists and whispers came from it. The orc then overturned the chest, tipping the heart into the waters, corrupting them and turning them purple.

Samuel opened his eyes. What had he just seen? Talking bears? And what on Azeroth did they mean? Who were they? That orc…his axe seemed familiar! The purple heart…it was sentient! The only ones who had such powers of corruption and whispering were…no, it couldn't be…Samuel recalled in lore lessons the four ancient evil entities of old. The Old Gods. Standing up and stretching, Samuel made his way to his bunk to mull things over. Sinking down upon the mattress, he thought things over. The visions…when would they take place? A year? A thousand years?

Eredar Lord Tanaris was not amused. Mephisto, one of his most brilliant and cunning servants, had failed to score even a scratch on the mortal warriors. With a curse, the Eredar brought a clawed fist down upon the stone table, cracking it. "Damn it! Mephisto, you had one job!" Mephisto stood in front of him, clenching and unclenching his claws. "They are stronger then we thought, Lord Tanaris! How was I supposed to know that?!" Tanaris was silent. Suddenly, a thought came into his mind. _I'm so going to regret this._ He thought, as he sent for Sayed. A fel portal, and the Queen of Suffering appeared. She blinked in mock surprise. "Well, this is a surprise, Lord Tanaris! Now, what can I do for you? Make it fast. My dear sister Sayle is waiting for me at home." Tanaris grunted. "I command you to infiltrate Azeroth and stir up chaos. Start at Light's Hope Chapel. Go now!" Sayed, however, showed no haste. Twirling her hair charmingly, she strolled daintily away. Mephisto growled and drew his sword. Driving it into the rock floor, he took to the air and flew away.

Tanaris flew into a rage. Howling in anger, the Eredar lord unleashed bolts of fel energy at anything that was breakable. When the carnage was over, he took in a deep breath. Mephisto had failed him once. The next time he failed, there would be no second chances.


End file.
